


HSWC 2014: br3 fills

by Mags



Series: HSWC 2014 [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/F, F/M, Multi, Short Fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mags/pseuds/Mags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets written for HSWC 2014; all AUs, with various pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jade<3Kanaya

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, I really procrastinated on posting these! I still really like them though.
> 
> http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/19475.html?thread=5159955#cmt5159955
> 
> The sci-fi AU where Kanaya comes to Jade's colony seeking asylum, and Jade gets to show her the ropes of living in her new society, and of gardening in the fancy, high-tech hydroponic greenhouse she runs.

Footsteps crunched on gravel, making Jade look up. At the far end of the greenhouse was an unfamiliar figure--which ruled out almost all of the colonists on Skaia-4.

“Come on over,” she called, fishing the last rock out of the reservoir. The other person approached as Jade stood and dried her hands off on her skirt. 

This close, Jade could take in the dainty horns and grey complexion. “You’re… Kanaya, right? The troll refugee.”

The troll nodded. She seemed to be aiming for compact--she stood with her feet together and her hands clasped in front of her skirt--but she was looking out at the plants with interest. She also had a spectacular jade-green bruise spreading across her cheek that somehow managed to avoid messing up her mascara at all.

Jade decided that she rather liked this Kanaya. “I’m Jade,” she said, holding out a hand for Kanaya to shake.

Kanaya did so, saying, “Nice to meet you.” It came out more as one word, smooth like Kanaya had practiced it quite a bit. She had a slight accent that Jade couldn’t place. “What is this place?”

“This is Greenhouse Three, where we’re growing potatoes and cabbages and a few stray carrots.”

“And that?” Kanaya nodded toward the reservoir.

“That’s the reservoir for this greenhouse’s hydroponics. Some kids kicked rocks into it and they were clogging up the intake pipe.”

“Hydroponics?” 

“You know, when you have the plants suspended over water without any soil?”

Kanaya’s eyebrows rose. “That works?” She seemed genuinely interested, which Jade wouldn’t have guessed from trolls’ generally bloodthirsty and destructive reputation.

“Here, let me show you.”

Jade spent an amiable half-hour showing Kanaya the ins and outs of hydroponic gardening. In the process Kanaya relaxed quite a bit--even smiling a few times, showing Jade a delicate but sharp pair of fangs. She was unafraid of getting a little dirty and explained to Jade that she’d had a garden of her own back home. 

(Jade decided that she was definitely cashing in some favors to get Kanaya assigned to the greenhouses. It would be criminal to waste this talent anywhere else.)

The two finished weeding and cleaning up Greenhouse Three in record time, leaving Jade with an hour before dinner.

“So where are you staying, Kanaya?” Jade asked, grabbing her jacket from the hook by the door.

“I don’t actually know yet,” she admitted.

“Beta wing has an opening, actually. John’s doing a fuel run to Riana Station so his room should be available. I can ask him if you like?”

“That would be very helpful,” Kanaya said, smiling.

That smile planted a tiny seed in Jade’s heart that would eventually blossom into a full-on crush in a few weeks, complete with awkward blushes and friendship drama and interventions from their friends--but, for now, it was just a bit of the greenhouse’s warmth that stayed with Jade for the rest of the day.


	2. Davesprite<3Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/19475.html?thread=5533459#cmt5533459
> 
> AU - Davesprite is a chimera created by Jade the witch. He escapes his well meaning creator and meets a young seer also on the run.

The awkward bulge on his back was the first thing that tipped you off. It looked at first like he had a backpack tucked under his long black coat, but then it shifted and seemed to expand a little. Between the sunglasses and coat you couldn’t verify it, but the whiff of magic you pick up leads you to believe he’s not purely human.

He was looking up at the subway map on the wall, gritting his teeth a little, when he caught your eye; now he was heading toward the ticket station, but you knew that if you could tell he was magical so could anyone else, and the subways are _not_ fun for lost quasihumans.

You tapped him on the shoulder and he whirled around, nearly clipping you with his not-backpack. _Looks like somebody’s fight-or-flight response is twitchy_ , you thought.

“Careful. There’s iskiomancers down that way,” you said in a low voice.

“There’s _what_ now?”

“Shadowbinders. They’ll make short work of an unprepared quasihuman.”

“Look, lady, I don’t know who you are or who you think I am, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Holding his hands in front of him, he started backing away, eyes darting like he was sizing up which exit to bolt to.

You shut your eyes, hard, and when you opened them again you could See. His aura was neon orange--too bright for a mere human--and extended like he had a hunch-back. It definitely wasn’t a backpack under his coat, but you still didn’t know what it was.

He let out a slight gasp. It was a common reaction--even you gasped a little, when you took a good look at your sun-shaped pupils in the mirror for the first time. You closed your eyes hard again and your Sight turned back into normal sight.

“Oh my god, I thought I was the only one here,” he said, letting out a shaky breath.

You smiled sweetly. “We all did. Quasihumans are more common than you’d think.”

He hesitated, neither moving toward or away from you, until his not-backpack twitched again. “Okay, I’m getting out of here,” he said.

When the two of you were out on street level, he relaxed quite a bit.

“Claustrophobic?” you asked.

He just nodded, looking around at the passing pedestrians.

“Well, if you don’t have any plans, I know a place for people like us just a few blocks from here,” you offered. You didn’t know why you were offering; maybe he reminded you of you when you were still young and discovering just how different you were from everyone else.

He considered that for a bit. “Alright,” he said finally. He looked down at his feet the entire way there, but when you turned into the narrow alleyway and opened the unmarked door he finally looked up, staring at the bartender’s eyes (slit pupils, yellow irises) and tongue (forked, thin, flickering in and out). 

Well, you assumed he was staring under those sunglasses. It was hard to tell when you couldn’t see half of his face.

You held up a hand in greeting to the bartender and steered him toward an alcove in the back. It looked like the place was empty--not unusual for this early on a Monday.

You shrugged off your own jacket and hung it up next to the booth, waiting for him to do the same. At the very least, he would have to take his sunglasses off if he wanted to see anything.

He pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead with deliberate slowness, revealing bright orange eyes, and unbuttoned his coat with similar sluggishness. Just as you were about to tell him to _just hurry up already_ he pulled it off in one movement.

A large pair of feathered wings unfurled from his back, resting open at a little wider than his shoulders. Creamy on the underside and darker orange on top, you estimated that he had at least an eight-foot wingspan, if not more.

You sat down and he settled on the other side of the table, wings dragging on the padded bench. He shifted a little, fidgeting with his wings until they sat right, and you decided that without the coat and without the sunglasses he might actually be pretty decent-looking.

“My name’s Rose,” you said.

“Dave,” he said, and that was that.


	3. Rose/Terezi/Vriska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/19475.html?thread=5749267#cmt5749267
> 
> It's hard when your escape pod leaves you trapped on a planet with no other signs of human civilisation. It's even harder when you stumble across a crash-landed Troll prison ship.

_Ping… ping… ping…_

The quiet, high-pitched noises wake you from your doze. You look out the window to see a large planet where before there was empty space.

That’s good. The escape pod only holds so much oxygen.

Letting the computer know you’re awake, you take a closer look at the planet. It’s cyan and white with yellow streaks that might be clouds, so at least it’s not a barren rock. The computer says it has an atmosphere and it’s warm enough for liquid water at least on some parts of the surface, so you’re happy.

However, that pinging was the proximity alarm, so you’re in for a rather bumpy ride before you can hit the surface. You’re not looking forward to that by any stretch of the imagination.

(As it turns out, one of the parachutes wasn’t packed properly and tore out entirely during your descent. You would plot revenge on whoever was in charge of that if they weren’t probably dead.)

*

_Ping…_

You rub the new bruises on your elbows and knees, looking down at the screen. Apparently the planet had a breathable, if thin, atmosphere and a cool temperature, at least where you landed. Pulling on the emergency jacket, you key the door open with one foot.

It’s painfully bright outside. You shield your eyes with one hand and step out onto the planet--and slip and fall.

You land on coarse white sand, skinning your palms. The still air smells sweet and floral; the clouds are indeed lemon yellow and the water only a few feet away is garishly aqua with blooms of pink and yellow. At this point you don’t really care; being out of that cramped escape pod is enough.

As you take in your surroundings, you notice a faint trail of smoke on the horizon and a dark shape. It is, at least, more interesting than featureless white sand and neon blue-pink-yellow water. You set the computer to broadcast a distress signal and try to collect water out of the atmosphere and then head off in the direction of the smoke.

(You know that even with water you won’t have long without any food. You know that the likelihood of anyone finding you this far off the beaten path are slim. You know that you might be the only survivor of the Genesis Frog, after the engine breach. You simply choose to ignore all of it.)

As you approach the shape it becomes clear that it’s a crashed ship, and not a human one to boot. There are two figures arguing on either side of a fire--two trolls, actually, now that you can see their horns. One is wearing teal and one is wearing cerulean, which you vaguely remember from social studies is important. (You are suddenly very glad that you took Alternian in high school.)

Teal is getting very worked up, gesticulating with a cane, but she’s talking too quickly for you to hear. Cerulean points at Teal with a stick from the fire--and, ooh, there’s something cooking on the stick, so they have food.

Being stranded on an uninhabited planet just got a lot more interesting.


End file.
